


Truth or Dare

by playout, PrinnPrick



Series: Love (and) Letters [12]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Epistolary, HP: EWE, Hogwarts Eighth Year, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-05
Updated: 2015-11-05
Packaged: 2018-04-30 03:11:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5148131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/playout/pseuds/playout, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrinnPrick/pseuds/PrinnPrick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's Hogwarts Eighth Year and Draco has a plan to get Potter out of his trousers. No self-respecting Gryffindor can resist a good dare...</p><p>***</p><p>One dreary January afternoon, Harry receives an intriguing owl from a most unexpected sender...</p><p>***</p><p>Off camera, Ron and Hermione worry about the strange letters making their best friend grin...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth or Dare

Hey Potter,

Truth or Dare.

DM

******

Hey Malfoy,

Dare.

HP

******

(How predictably Gryffindor of you, Potter. Way to play to type.)

I dare you to write something embarrassing somewhere on your body. You may decide what and where. You won't have to show me--I trust your sense of honour to compel your follow through.

DM

******

(That doesn't seem like much of a challenge. I did it anyway, but what is the point if no one sees it?)

Your turn: truth or dare.

H.

******

(Doing it is the point, of course.)

Truth.

DM

******

Wow. I wasn't expecting that. Okay, tell me a secret you haven't told anyone else. Not your fear of fire--I know that one already. I've seen you flinch around it too many times.

H.

******

Fair enough.

I have a stuffed bear at the bottom of the trunk at the foot of my bed. His name is Mr. Ted. My father attempted to dispose of him when I was five (because I was 'too old' for such things) but Mother rescued him in secret and returned him to me. She told me I would have to keep him hidden from then on or risk losing him for good. He's been near me ever since.

Your go.

DM

******

(That is unexpectedly adorable.)

Truth.

H.

******

Tell me about your first kiss.

DM

******

It sucked. It was with Cho Chang and I didn't know what to expect, but it was basically just a pressing of lips, maybe a half-second long.

Your go.

H.

******

(How boring, Potter. What a waste of a question.)

Dare.

DM

******

(What were you expecting?)

I dare you to wear your hair loose all day tomorrow.

H.

******

It didn't take you long to go after the hair, did it?

You're on, but understand this means the ante has been upped.

(I expected something _interesting_. Details. Passion. At least an embarrassing erection. Salazar.)

DM

******

(It is not _my_ fault she had no passion. And it is sort of hard to get an erection when the person you are snogging is doing their best impression of Moaning Myrtle.

And for your information, I happen to think your hair would look better down than gelled back, that's all.)

Dare.

H.

******

(It _could_ be your fault. You might be a terrible kisser.)

Are you trying to tell me that you're using your precious dare in some kind of charitable act of service? How droll. I'm not sure I should be taking hairstyle advice from you, of all people. It is endearingly trusting of you to ask for your dare on the as yet unfulfilled expectation that I will make good on mine, however.

I will do it. And you, I believe, will look simply smashing in a Slytherin tie at breakfast tomorrow. I have one you may borrow, if necessary.

DM

******

(Ginny never complained. And I recently had an extended snog with a Ravenclaw that was apparently impressive. "Apparently" because they could have just been saying that to flatter me.)

Fine, I'll wear the tie, but it's your go now. Truth or dare?

H.

******

Truth.

(What was your take on the snog with this mystery student?)

DM

******

(It wasn't bad, but it could have been better. You know Ravenclaws, they think too much about everything--even kissing.)

Tell me about _your_ first kiss, Mister Snog-Meister

H.

******

I won't tell you about my _first_ first kiss because that was with Pansy and we were five. There is little more to say on the topic. I will instead tell you about the one that confirmed a few suspicions of mine (after which I have never looked back) and that was with Adrian Pucey. In the Quidditch locker room. After a particularly thrilling match against Hufflepuff in which I captured the snitch and was rewarded with a fair sight more than a kiss.

Adrian wasn't the quickest broom in the shed, but he knew how to snog. Better still, he wasn't shy with his hands. We enjoyed our post-game ritual for the remainder of the season, his last at Hogwarts.

Your go.

DM

******

(You're into blokes? How have you been able to hide that? And Parkinson was all over you through most of school!

My own confirmation was right after the war.)

Dare.

H.

******

(I am, indeed. I'll give that one to you for free since I thought it was rather obvious in my last letter.

Pansy, being a dear friend--and more than a little infatuated with me--was willing to assist me in maintaining the ruse as long as I wished.

What cinched it for you?)

I dare you to let me do your hair tomorrow. You can pick up the tie while you're here.

DM

******

You're welcome to try. Just don't shave me.

(I had a hopeless crush on my godfather when he was still alive, but he was a man more than twice my age and I still thought boys were only supposed to like girls then. Not to mention he was my father's best friend and going to be my new guardian.

When he died, I was devastated. I still have the photo album of him with my parents and Remus when they were all young.

Anyway, so right after the war I went to the nearest pub I could find to get absolutely shitfaced--disguised, of course. Everyone was celebrating, but I was mourning. I didn't have much time for it before then, you realise. A German man approached me who looked scarily like a young Sirius and I decided to go home with him. Never saw him again. He had no clue who I really was, but I knew then why it always made me uncomfortable when a bird looked at me with lust in her eyes and why I was always breathless when Sirius looked at me with so much love--platonic, mind--or happiness.)

Your go.

H.

******

(That'll do it...

I am sorry for the double devastation of your loss, but glad you found a German bloke in a pub to straighten you out. In a manner of speaking.)

Truth.

And if you're feeling particularly daring, I recommend you asking me how I'd like to spend the rest of the evening.

DM

p.s.  
When you say, "don't shave me," you mean your head, right?

******

(Yes, I mean my head. My hair may be a bird's nest, but I prefer it to bald.

... And how would you like to spend the rest of the evening?)

Dare.

H.

******

Meet me in my room and I'll show you rather than tell you.

DM

p.s.  
I'll provide the tie.

******

I will come on one condition: I want to continue the game.

Harry

**Author's Note:**

> In response to Draco's first dare, Harry wrote "I am afraid of bees" on his inner left thigh. Draco took great pleasure in searching for and discovering that juicy admission.


End file.
